Master of Smoke

God’s sake, I’m twenty-four years old!”
    The woman’s attention fell on the fingers of Miranda’s left hand, closed protectively around the spelled gemstone. “What’s that? Did they give you something?” She extended an imperious palm, her lips tight with fear and anger. “Hand it over, Miranda. Now!!”
    “Joelle, calm down.” Joan stepped around the coffee table as the other women rose and fled from their respective couches like flushed quail. The five ladies huddled at the other end of the room, eyeing the furious werewolf with nervous disapproval. “Remember, these people are my guests. They serve Merlin, the same as we do.”
    “They’re fools, and so are you if you think they can protect you.” growled Joelle, her voice dropping with every syllable as magic swirled furiously around her.
    “Joelle,” Joan began, alarmed, but the protest came too late. Miranda’s mother was already transforming.
    Fur spilled over Joelle Drake’s contorting body as she grew in a magical rush until she towered over her daughter. Almost seven feet tall, she had a long, wolflike muzzle and sharply pointed ears. Her thighs curved, densely muscled, as if she stood on a dog’s hind legs, and her hands were tipped with sharp, two-inch claws. Her short, fine coat and shoulder-length mane were the same shining copper red as Miranda’s hair. “Do you want him to kill you? Give me that!” She grabbed Miranda’s wrist and pried her fingers open.
    “Dammit, Mother, that hurts!” Miranda yelped as her mother’s talons sliced her skin. Joelle ingored her, plucking the stone away to toss it across the room. It hit the ground and bounced with a rattling click click click.
    “That’s enough!” Tristan roared, bounding to his feet to push between the two. He glared fearlessly up at the towering Dire Wolf. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
    Belle shot to her feet, magic glittering around her hands as she prepared to conjure armor around them both. A flick of her fingers summoned the fallen gemstone into her palm.
    “You have no idea what you’re interfering with,” the werewolf spat at him. “You’ll get us all killed.”
    “This is no affair of yours,” Calista added, glaring from Tristan to Belle as if they were the ones menacing Miranda. “That girl is Chosen. Tend to your own.”
    “I am. I’m a Knight of the Round Table,” Tristan snapped. “It’s my duty to ensure no one is abused while I’m around.” He turned toward Miranda. “What do you want to do, kid? Say the word, and Belle will gate us to Avalon.”
    Under cover of the argument, Belle spelled the gem back into the girl’s hand. She looked startled and gripped it tight again.
    “No!” Lips peeled back from her teeth as Joelle lifted her clawed hands and curled them in a blatantly menacing gesture. She took a step toward the knight. “You have no right to interfere in family business. She’s my daughter, and you are not taking her anywhere!”
    Without taking his eyes off the Dire Wolf, Tristan extended his right hand toward Belle. She promptly conjured his sword into his palm, then spun his armor around him with a swirl of power. Tristan gave her a nod of thanks without looking away from the Dire Wolf. “Your daughter is an adult. She has a right to make her own choices.”
    “She’s Chosen.” Theresa Carrington drew herself to her full height and tilted her round chin. “Her duty is to her father, and her mother has a responsibility to enforce his will. You’re interfering where you’re not wanted.”
    “Mrs. Carrington, I hate to break it to you, but this isn’t the nineteenth century anymore,” Belle growled, sending the massive coffee table skidding out of the way with a flick of power. She strode over to stand at Tristan’s side. “Say the word, Miranda, and we’ll get you out of here.”
    “You can’t!” The werewolf’s ears flattened as she turned a pleading look on her daughter. “You know what he’ll do!”
    Miranda stared up at her towering mother, and the defiance bled away from the set of her shoulders. “Yes, I know exactly what he’d do.” She turned to Belle and pressed the communication gem into the witch’s hand. “I appreciate the offer, but I can’t leave my mother. Her husband would kill her. And that’s not a figure of speech.”
    “Miranda!” Calista sounded scandalized. “We don’t share our business with outsiders!”
    “Her husband? Not your father?” Suddenly two plus two